


Concentricity

by calibratingentropy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Culture, Alternate Universe, Awkward courting attempts, Dorks in Love, F/M, Honerva no, Interspecies Awkwardness, Quad-sexed Ovoviviparous Marsupial Galra, Zarkon Why
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 04:35:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15622659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calibratingentropy/pseuds/calibratingentropy
Summary: After Honerva expresses an interest in learning more about Galra culture, Zarkon invites her out to a secluded rock garden to personally show her a dance. Neither of them is quite prepared for the result, but enjoy the experience all the same.





	Concentricity

**Author's Note:**

> Another Quad-sexed Ovoviviparous Marsupial Galra story! This one focuses more on culture than biology, and this story is adorable fluff. 
> 
> Special thanks to my betas: Geist, Pterodotyl, PictoJournalist, RahneDrop and dani_the_owl.
> 
> Fun facts:  
> -Dancing is a very important art and activity for Galra in this AU, and a personal favorite of Zarkon. It's a good way to show fitness and grace, and dancing together is a good example of working (or hunting/fighting together).  
> -Zarkon is totally attempting a courtship overture but doesn't have the self-confidence in his tact to actually say so.

Honerva didn’t know why Zarkon had invited her out to this secluded garden. It was a garden of _rocks_ , nothing like she’d expected, but she had to admit there was a kind of stark beauty in it. Different colors of stones were arranged in arcs and paths. Here and there were larger rocks as accents to the pattern, each nestled in a circle of reflective golden crystalline stones. Honerva thought those might be a formation of quartz unique to Diabazaal. There were also benches of a red stone scattered around, feeling like a part of the pattern rather than apart from it. Honerva had settled down on one, fighting the urge to fidget. 

Feelings were hard to quantify, much less qualify, but Honerva could list the physiological changes in her body that came from spending time with Zarkon and it was… new. New was effective enough of a description, wasn’t it? 

“Honerva, you came—“ Zarkon finally entered the garden, and cleared his throat, “I mean, I’m pleased that you were able to make time in your schedule to meet with me.” 

Honerva knew that laughing would only fluster him more (really, who would have expected the Galra Emperor to be shy?) but she had to bite her lip to stop it anyway. He was wearing robes, instead of his usual armor, what a surprise! The colors were a bit darker, a deep velvety violet-gray, but there was still that bloody red he favored as an accent on the top, and brilliant gold designs picked out over the chest and on the hems. And a cape, because of course there was. 

She should say something, shouldn’t she? Staring wasn’t becoming. Honerva found her tongue stumbling over the words. “Who could refuse an Emperor’s request? I mean, I would have come anyway, but, well, I’m honored really—“ 

Oh quiznak, she was babbling. That was even worse. But Zarkon saved her from the worst of it by beaming and stepping forward. The robes were layered but cut for freedom of movement. His step parted them, showing off his legs in pants that were both flowing and clinging. The sight made her heart skip a beat, which was ludicrous. His armor showed off his legs just as much. Why were they so interesting _now_?

His voice broke through the fog of her muddled thoughts. “Yesterday, you mentioned being interested in seeing more of our culture, so I thought— If you’re still interested, of course!” 

Oh! She had said that yesterday, hadn’t she? Honerva had meant it, but hadn’t expected… Zarkon was so busy after all. He’d taken the time to invite her-- There went her heart again! “Of course, I am! I just didn’t think you’d be able to— Personally… Oh, this is such— I mean. Thank you.” 

Of all the— She was an alchemist and had written papers lauded for both the discoveries and the excellent use of language. Why were words failing her at such an important time? Why was now an important time? Why— Focus! She could do this. She just needed a topic. “So, the garden? It’s very different from what I’m used to, I’ll admit, but it is lovely, and—“ 

That was a failure, but Zarkon’s laughter was warm and made both her heart and stomach flip. Why. He fussed with something in his hands. “Well, yes, this garden is one of the jewels of my citadel, but it wasn’t what I wanted to show you. I, well… You see, dance is a very important art for Galra, and I’d hoped… that you would enjoy a performance, perhaps?” 

A dance performance? He’d arranged that just for her? Honerva was touched. “I would enjoy that very much!” 

Zarkon's shoulders relaxed, and his smile went soft around the edges. He settled the object in his hands beside her on the bench and tapped the screen. A music player!

But why was he stepping ba—oh. _Oh_. Zarkon hadn’t arranged a performance. _He_ was going to dance. Just for _her_. Honerva was sure she was blushing so thoroughly that her marks were glowing. 

The music had an entirely different feel from Altean fare, and a rumbling, percussive baseline that thrummed through the air like the heartbeat of the planet itself. And Zarkon—

Honerva had never seen someone so large move so lightly, and the steps were dizzying in their complexity. Somehow, even though he was traversing the width and breadth of the garden, he didn’t even have to adjust course to avoid the larger stones and— Oh! That twirling leap! And a handspring— and…

It was like the robes and the cape were made for the dance, flashes of brighter lining showing at movement like scattered stars. Although Zarkon dipped and crouched and sprang, the cape never tangled, and swept behind him, inscribing mathematically perfect arcs. Her heart was in her throat, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away, even when Zarkon came to a stop kneeling in front of her. He was breathing a little hard, but grinning like he did whenever she made a new discovery in the labs. 

Words. Words were important. “Oh, that was simply— I’ve never seen anything so lovely. I have no idea how you even move like that. If I tried, I’d surely trip over my own feet!” 

“That one is advanced,” Zarkon said, with a hint of well-earned pride, “but no one as skilled as you are could trip over yourself in a simple dance.” 

What was he saying? Honerva didn’t think her blush could deepen further, but it felt like it did. “I certainly would! I have two left feet; just ask Alfor!” 

“Then you just haven’t had a good enough teacher!” Zarkon was holding out his hand to her. _His hand_ —!

It was reckless, foolish (she’d trip!), but Honerva took it. His smile was starlight and he pulled, voice inscribing a rhythm like music. “Like this. Step, step, twist. Again. And lift—“ 

His hands were points of heat through her clothes, gentle and guiding. Honerva had never been good at the dances so favored on Altea. She hadn’t been lying about that, but somehow, it didn’t seem so hard like this. Left, right, left. Inscribe an arc around the axis that was Zarkon. Let him draw her in like a star’s gravity. Twirl. Step, _leap_ — And back into the cradle of his guiding touch. Twirl again, and dip back, and up again! 

This was fun. This was wonderful. Zarkon was teaching her to dance and she didn’t feel nervous or hyper aware of the structural limits of her bones. Honerva laughed as he spun her, spreading her arms on command and— Shrieked! 

Very high, very quickly! His hands were at the perfect balance point for her mass, but she’d kicked out in her surprise and she was going to fall. Was falling!

Honerva came to rest against Zarkon’s chest, his arms warm and secure around her. Her feet dangled uselessly, and his face was close enough that she could feel his exhale against her lips.

“I’m sorry—“

“I’m sorry—“ 

They looked at each other in the fresh silence and then they were both laughing. Honerva felt light, buoyant, _warm_. There was gentle pressure of his forehead against hers, and if this was a romance holo— Quiznak!

Honerva tried to hide her mortification, but she was still in Zarkon’s arms, and the only place to hide her face was his shoulder, and _oh_ — The sound he made from his syrinx. Those instinctive sounds usually had important meanings, and Zarkon wouldn’t look at her when she lifted her head. 

“That was… forward,” Zarkon ground out softly.

“Of you, or me?” Honerva hadn’t ruined things, had she? 

“Both?” Zarkon cleared his throat. “Your scent…” 

Realization was both cold and hot in her chest. Galra relied so heavily on scent and she’d just smeared hers in a very intimate place. Oh _quiznak_ —

“I don’t mind at all! I mean—“ Zarkon’s reassurance faltered, but all signs pointed to it being genuine. He still hadn’t put her _down_. (It felt so nice.) 

And if she— Honerva froze for a tick. He’d been expressing _interest_ , hadn’t he? And she couldn’t even deny the empirical evidence of her own attraction. How would an interspecies romance even work? (Wouldn’t it be grand to find out?)

“Are you… courting me?” Well, that was one way to approach the subject, wasn’t it? 

Zarkon took a sudden breath. “Do you want me to?” 

Honerva couldn’t help it; he was so fun to fluster. She dropped her gaze, peering through her eyelashes, and smoothed a palm over the silken fabric of his collar. “Needs more data. Would you like to do some research with me?” 

Zarkon sputtered, but he didn’t put her down. Honerva took that as a yes.


End file.
